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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889403">dulce de leche</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea'>jasminetea</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bisexual Booker | Sebastien le Livre, Bisexual Nile Freeman, Black Character(s), Canon Character of Color, Character Study, Community: theoldguardkinkmeme, Daddy Kink, Domestic, F/M, Female Character of Color, Genderplay, Intimacy, May/December Relationship, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Nursing, POV Nile Freeman, Pet Names, Prompt Fill, Slice of Life, Slow Build, femme daddy, good communication, idk how to tag this, see author's notes for more info</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:54:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,848</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28889403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasminetea/pseuds/jasminetea</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Nile searches for the words to define what she and Booker are after they are no longer milk bartender and client. An exploration of intimacy, care, and the various shapes they make.</p><p>
  <i>“Is what confuses you that we began with intimacy instead of sexual attraction?” Booker asks. "Because to me, what does it matter as long as it ends with the two of us here, right now?”</i>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Booker | Sebastien le Livre/Nile Freeman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. dulce de leche</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Regular notes:<br/></p><li>Written for <a href="https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/7393.html?thread=2644705#cmt2644705">this prompt</a> on the kink meme. It was supposed to be PWP, but then… *waves hands* OP, if you’d still like this gifted to you, please let me know!<br/></li><li>The weird life shit this meme has me channeling, I swear… 😂 But, if you’ve ever had a relationship that did not fit neatly into romantic, platonic, or sexual, this fic is for you.<br/></li><li>On a more serious note, I’m not Black, so feel free to check me if I’ve erred.</li><br/>Thank you to<br/><li><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaybella/">kaybella</a> for not only helping with research, but doing both a beta and sensitivity read<br/></li><li><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/beans_on_toast/">beans_on_toast</a> for the offhand comment that Booker would be the little girl in this relationship, helping with the title, and letting me think at her<br/></li><li>the 18+ server (<a href="https://discord.gg/RS9jnjZz">Disaster Immortals</a>) for the encouragement and promising people would read this weird little fic<br/></li><li>the IRL friends who listened and helped me reach for my own version of love</li><br/>Re: tags &amp; content (if this is of no concern to you, skip ahead!)<br/><li>if you need anything tagged or would like further clarification, please let me know!<br/></li><li>This fic is about the way intimacy flows through a variety of activities, including nursing, sex,  kink (?), friendship, and romance.<br/></li><li>While there is sex, nursing, and kink, they are not the focus of the fic.  So if you’re looking for erotic nursing, ageplay, Daddy (or Mommy) dom/little girl, or hardcore Daddy kink, this is (alas) not that fic. This focuses on domesticity and intimacy, so think more ~soft vibes~ than sexy porn.<br/></li><li>Booker calls Nile “Daddy” during sex. IMO it’s more like “Ooooh Daddy” than a power play thing. That said, Booker is eager to please and you could read submissive subtext into him.<br/></li><li> Nile calls Booker her “little girl” (and a couple of other variations) both during sex and outside of it. In both instances, it’s an affectionate pet name, much like dear/babe/sweetheart. I didn’t write it as an ageplay or feminization thing. However, her relationship with Booker involves him nursing from her, so I realize some people might not be into that.<br/></li><li>As for the alpha/beta/omega dynamics, I eschewed most of the ruts/mating heat tropes.  I did lean into scents though.</li>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“Queer like, escaping definition. [...] Queer like the fearlessness to imagine what love can look like…and pursue it.</p>
  <p>—Brandon Wint</p>
</blockquote><p>Nile’s right nipple has always given off a little milk. She remembers being in middle school and comparing her breasts with other classmates’, squeezing and poking at them in the gym changing room. She remembers being surprised that Melvin’s nipples were pink, so she licked her thumb and rubbed at it to make sure it wasn’t dye or something. Melvin had rolled his eyes, and then pinched hers in return. And then her classmates were oohing and ahhing at the little bit of milk that came out that nipple.</p><p>When she got home, she asked her mom about it. “Nothing wrong with that,” her mom said. “But don’t let anyone touch you that you don’t want touching you. Especially older alphas. You’re still a girl.”</p><p>“I’m your girl,” Nile replied sweetly.</p><p>And her mom had sighed, part wistfully and part resigned. “You’ll always be my little girl.”</p>
<hr/><p>Nile wasn’t born yesterday, and yet she still circles the ad for working in a milk bar, and walks in expecting a literal milk bar. A bar where people serve organic, cruelty-free milk along with vegan options, for $7 a glass with fancy syrups and bitters – it’s the exact kind of thing Nile would expect here in the bougie, gentrified part of town.</p><p>So the heavy scent of omega’s milk and content betas and alphas is a surprise to her, along with the bodies strewn in casual embraces throughout the brightly lit white room. The clients are so absorbed they don’t even notice Nile enter, but the occasional milk bartender glances up at her and grins at her wide eyes. She knows milk bars exist, how people go for everything from cancer to needing comfort, but she’s never been in one herself.</p><p>A slender person dressed in a skirt suit and heels approaches her. “May I help you?”</p><p>Nile blinks. “I’m her for the job posting?”</p><p>They stand behind the front desk and eye her speculatively. “Have you ever been pregnant?”</p><p>(Her mom had scheduled her a doctor’s appointment for birth control right after her period started. Nile had rolled her eyes, “Mom I know you tease me about Gris being my girlfriend, but we’re <em>not.</em>”</p><p>Her mom had replied, “I know that. I just want you to have all the choices you can have. Let me put this one thing out of my mind.”</p><p>“Alright Mom.”</p><p>“That’s my girl,” she replied with a smile. “Now, you got those condoms for you and your girlfriend I slipped into your underwear drawer?”</p><p>“<em>Mom!”</em>)</p><p>Nile shakes her head. “But I’ve always given off a little milk.”</p><p>“Really!” The employee looks at her more like a person and less like a waste of time. “How old were you…” Nile levels a glare at her, and they don’t finish their sentence. “Well, if you’re already predisposed to it, maybe you can induce lactation. Get a pump, and if you can manage it, let me know, and I’ll put you on the schedule.”</p><p>Nile goes home, does some research on how much milk bartenders make, and after crunching the numbers, buys the pump.</p><p>Three weeks later, Nile’s milk comes; and the clerk, true to their word, gets Nile on the schedule. She doesn’t worry about paying her tuition the rest of her senior year of college.</p>
<hr/><p>When she graduates, she considers quitting the milk bar. She’s never shaken the feeling that she’s just a body there. But then Jay suggests following her to work at Mona’s milk bar. Nile likes Mona’s better – the walls are painted a deep red and brown, the lighting is warm, and there are tasseled pillows and blankets scattered across the couches. It just feels… better, less sterile.</p><p>There are more Black people for one. She doesn’t have to watch her body-language or words as much. There are still people who don’t tip well and those who do. But her regulars here are kinder. When Nile gets sick, the bar knows she’s far from home, so the staff and her clients make sure she’s fed, and the other bartenders help her sell the milk she’s pumped.</p><p>*</p><p>She goes home for Christmas that year. Before, though, she calls her mom.</p><p>“So, Mom.”</p><p>“Yes, Nile.”</p><p>“You’re gonna notice I smell different…”</p><p>“...did you bond with someone?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Are you pregnant?”</p><p>“No, but you’re gonna smell milk on me.”</p><p>Her mom is quiet for a moment, and Nile is so very nervous. “I’m so very glad you told me. I’ll make sure none of the family gives you a hard time about it. You know you’ll always be my little girl and I love you right?”</p><p>“Yeah, Mom, I do.” And if her voice is a little watery, neither of them mention it.</p>
<hr/><p>Nile’s ready to leave the milk bar at last. She has enough cash saved up to devote herself to job hunting. She likes Mona’s, but she wants the steadiness of a constant paycheck and a 401k with employer matching. It’ll take time for her breasts to stop producing milk, so she figures she might as well keep working until they dry up and save up extra.</p><p>Of course, that’s when Booker comes in, and Nile does a double-take. He looks like the kinda client she’d have at the old bougie bar: white man, that slicked back haircut all the hipsters have that could easily be pulled into a manbun, plaid shirt he fills out nicely, a body that clearly requires weight lifting to achieve. But he also looks so very tired and unashamed of it.</p><p>“Where you’ve been, Book?” Mona asks, warmly greeting him with a hug.</p><p>“Ah…” he looks away, then shores himself up. “I started seeing someone. He didn’t like that I still came here; he was an omega.” Nile’s not surprised to hear it, jealousy is common across gender.</p><p>“I take it he’s not with you anymore?” Booker shakes his head. “I know you used to be Frida’s regular, but her baby came, so she’s not here anymore.”</p><p>“I thought not,” he sighs. It’s common for some omegas to make some extra cash if their milk comes in before the baby.</p><p>Mona turns her grey eyes to Nile. “Nile, dear, you have an appointment open right now, don’t you?”</p><p>And that’s how Nile winds up with Booker in her lap. He’s nervous but respectful. It’s her first time with him, so she doesn’t take him to one of the sofa beds, but sits on one of the public sofas. She props his head up on her lap with pillows.</p><p>Usually she lets her clients set the pace, but he’s tightly wound even in a room heavy with the smell of omega milk. She figures she’d better ask before she unzips her blouse. “Do you wanna talk about it?”</p><p>He shakes his head. “No, but you’re welcome to talk if you’d like?”</p><p>As he nurses, she talks him through the recipes she’s been trying lately. She’d hated deviled eggs with relish, but she did like the mushroom bacon. She’d also bought all the ingredients to make homemade pie crust, but gave up and went back to the store and bought pre-made pie crust. She keeps on like this, and by the end, he’s relaxed by her milk. Gone is the tense vein in his neck, instead his eyes are peacefully closed, and he’s curled up against her. She pulls a blanket over him, and waits for him to come up.</p><p>When the buzz ebbs, Booker opens dazed eyes. She strokes his hair and continues talking about the episode of <em>Terrace House</em> she’s on until he’s good to drive.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, shoulders loose, and standing straight. “I needed that.”</p><p>At the end of her shift, her biggest tip is from him.</p>
<hr/><p>As Booker comes back for his next appointment, Nile sees for herself he was a regular before his ex. He’s comfortable with being one of the few white customers, often the only one when he comes in. Nile asks him about it at the end of one of their shorter sessions and he’s less dazed by her milk.</p><p>“Moved here because when I drank too much, this is where I could afford to live,” is what he says.</p><p>“And now?” Nile asks.</p><p>“Now, it’s home. I like that the people say hello.” Then he adds wryly, “Even if it is to ask me when I’m going to try and flip their homes.”</p><p>There are also times he’s out of the loop on the jokes they make, the food, the music, but he rolls with it good-naturedly. And every now and then he comes through and the bar fills with raucous laughter.</p><p>“Carlos,” Dizzy bemoans, “don’t forget <em>you</em> were the one who couldn’t remember which of Mary J. Blige’s albums was white, but this fool did!” She points at Booker, who’s shrugging his over-sized crochet scarf back on.</p><p>Carlos shakes his head. “I thought he’d listen to Celine Dion or something!”</p><p>“Only her French albums,” Booker quips. To Dizzy he says, “Mary J. Blige was playing here one day. I liked the song, so I Shazam’d it.”</p><p>“Ooooh, look at the old man, hip with his phone and shit!”</p><p>As time goes on, Nile continues to gather bits of info about him before or after their sessions – he doesn’t talk during their appointments; that’s Nile’s time to ramble about whatever’s on her mind, like the combined power of Tressie McMillan Cottom and Roxane Gay in one podcast.</p><p>Eventually, he tells her that he first started coming to the milk bar to help him stay sober. “I was embarrassed,” he admits. “That I needed the…” he sighs, “care and the milk. And I felt I’d replaced one addiction with another. Shouldn’t I have been able to just… not drink? I don’t need to come in the way I used to, but it helps. My pack reminded me it’s okay to need help, that I don’t need to white knuckle it.”</p><p>She strokes his hair. “They sound like good people.”</p><p>“I think you’d get along with them,” he says with a small smile.</p>
<hr/><p>Booker usually slicks his hair back, but he says he doesn’t mind if she musses it. She scratches his scalp, and loosens the strands from the gel’s hold. He’s always so lax after their appointments, and she wonders what it’d be like if he stayed. Lulled by his sweet contented smell and the soft pull of his mouth on her breast, she thinks what it’d be like if they weren’t at Mona’s, but at her home. On her couch, his scent and hers filling up her living room, plates of finished food on the coffee table.</p><p>The image startles her, and carding her fingers through Booker’s hair, Nile begins to wonder if she’s out of her depth. Some patrons lay in the lap of the bartender aided by props, but after that first appointment, she and Booker always wind up sprawled on the couch, his body a heavy comforting weight, and she plays with his hair while he suckles. Sometimes, her hands wander down, scratching his neck, and rubbing circles on his back. She likes the feel of him.</p><p>She knows with the intimacy of nursing, sometimes feelings and lines get blurred, but she’s never had it happen to her before. She’s had young girls sent to her by their therapists, perpetual bachelors, identical twins separated by birth, and yes, even widowers as well. But there’s something about Booker…</p><p>She hopes it’s a strange one-off daydream, but as he keeps coming in, her idle fantasies grow. She thinks about them napping afterwards. She doesn’t know what he wears when he’s alone, so she imagines him in athleisure, pajamas, sweatpants, boxers, all of them washed in her detergent.</p><p>The date she and Mona had discussed as her last rolls by, and Nile isn’t taking appointments from anyone except Booker. Mona rolls her eyes. “You’re quitting the business anyway. Just invite him home.”</p><p>Nile blushes. “Maybe I will.”</p><p>“Good,” she states.</p>
<hr/><p>Nile and Quỳnh become friends at a local maker’s market, drawn to one another by their mutual outfit appreciation, and then by their love for grueling fitness. Nile because she’d almost become a marine and Quỳnh because she’d almost been a professional MMA fighter.</p><p>They meet up Saturday at a Crossfit gym, and after they’re pleasantly beaten to a pulp by the erg, they have smoothies at the local co-op next door. As they’re chatting, Quỳnh waves someone over.</p><p>It takes Nile a moment to realize it’s Booker. She blinks in surprise, not used to seeing him outside of work. And from the way he raises his sunglasses, the feeling is mutual. She’s certainly dressed differently. At work her clothes are plain and easy to clean, usually all black, her earrings and hair her main fashion outlets. But here, she’s in a sports bra with a satin bomber jacket thrown over it, tights with mesh paneling that shows a lot of leg, and neon Adidas trainers.</p><p>He’s dressed the same way he always is, denim jacket, a tangle of necklaces, but he’s not tense. Even his scent is familiar, and her breasts give a twinge. She gasps, but fortunately Quỳnh and Booker take it as one of surprise at Booker’s arrival.</p><p>“Nile,” he nods at her, stopping at their table.</p><p>“Hey, Booker.”</p><p>“You know each other?” Quỳnh inquires a bit too warmly. Nile looks to Booker, leaving how much he wants to reveal in his hands.</p><p>“I’m one of her regulars at Mona’s,” he says. She lets out a breath. She’s never liked being called a milk maid or a wet nurse.</p><p>“Your bartender, I see.” Turning towards Nile, Quỳnh says conspiratorially, “He used to dry nurse from me, but the milk really helps him, and milk does not come easily for me.”</p><p>Booker groans, and trades quips with Quỳnh. Nile doesn’t see this side of him at work, only the solemn man, whose sadness slowly eases under her care. She wants to see more of this slyly funny Booker, able to give as good as he gets. She’s going to ask him soon, and finally quit her job.</p><p>Once Booker leaves, Quỳnh watches her expectantly. “You look like you have questions, little omega. Let Auntie Quỳnh enlighten you.”</p><p>Nile has the feeling Quỳnh could eat her and Booker for breakfast, and it occurs to her she hasn’t met her beta wife – the woman must either be the sweetest woman ever or as terrifying as Quỳnh.</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about seeing Booker outside of work. Is there anything I need to know?”</p><p>“Plenty,” she says lightly. “He’s had a hard time, but who hasn’t?” She shrugs. “But what I think you’re asking is if he’s dangerous.”</p><p>Nile nods.</p><p>“No, he’s always had a squishy heart – it’s why he has all that muscle, to protect it.”</p><p>“He’s a good friend?”</p><p>Quỳnh looks at her oddly. “Are you a little noseblind? We’re pack.”</p><p>Nile feels her face heat up; being able to pick out the scents people wore from their pack has never come easily to her. “Yes.”</p><p>“Ah, well then. He’s a good friend, he helped Andy and I during a difficult time. And he’s an even better one now that he’s sober. Also, he’s eager to please,” Quỳnh adds with a wink.</p>
<hr/><p>Once the thought of seeing Booker outside of work becomes persistent, being his bartender becomes… an experience. The lines of professional and personal blur when they’re close, and she tries not to let on how much she wants to commit his feel to memory. She wants to tug his mouth away from her – both so she can talk to him, and because it’s starting to turn her on. That’s never happened to her before, but when Quỳnh said he was eager to please, how else was she supposed to take it? Imagining Booker sleepy in pajamas, leads to her thinking of him waking up with morning wood, his mouth on her for non-professional purposes.</p><p>Booker interrupts her thoughts. “You’re almost out of milk in this breast,” Booker says muzzily, rubbing his rough cheek against her breast.</p><p>She thinks if she slept in an oversized tee, he might stick his head under it like an overgrown cat. She’d grip his hair and ask him to suck her breasts in ways that had nothing to do with nursing, and a lot more to do with her pleasure. <em>Keep going, </em>she’d say.</p><p>But here, in Mona’s, she says in a level voice that does not betray her fantasies, “It’s okay, you can finish it up. I don’t have any other clients.”</p><p>Booker’s gaze focuses. “What?”</p><p>“There’s no one else.” That’s a terrible slip, and sounds like a terrible come-on, so she adds, “There’s plenty of time for me to recover. Go for it,” she urges him.</p><p>Something crosses his face, and he sucks hungrily at her breast, and she has to bite her lip to stop from letting out a breathy sigh. He drinks deeply, and each suck draws another daydream from her: Nile wearing his plaid shirt; his fingers rubbing where the band of her bra has left her tender, his tongue chasing the ache away; knowing what his bedtime ritual is.</p><p>She goes home that night, and touches herself thinking about yanking his head from her breast and nudging him down. “Finish what you started,” she’d say. And he’d gaze up at her, his breath against slick flesh. She remembers how he’d laughed with Quỳnh, and to her surprise, that’s when she comes.</p>
<hr/><p>Meeting Booker in Riot Grounds seems like a good idea. It’s public, and surely there will be other people awkwardly meeting, so they won’t be the focus of the other customers. She takes her seat so she has a clear view of the door, and despite the coffee shop being packed with the morning crowd, he makes a beeline for her.</p><p>He offers to buy both of their breakfasts, and Nile doesn’t object. Watching him in line is like watching him when they were with Quỳnh, a chance to see a different side of him. He makes small talk with the other people in line, and she sees him leave a tip too. Good.</p><p>Once he returns with her cappuccino, his lavender latte, and a lemon poppy seed scone to split, she asks him how he found her so quickly when he came in.</p><p>“I know what you smell like,” Booker says, shoulders hunched as if shy. It’s endearing.</p><p>“Oh, huh. Can you even smell my milk?” It’s hard to smell anything here between all the people and the heavy smell of coffee.</p><p>“Oh, no, I meant you in general? You must wear perfume or something? But underneath it is always you.”</p><p>“Bartenders don’t wear perfume; takes away from the experience for people with sensitive noses. Oh! It might be my hair products! I have favorites I use regularly.” She leans onto the table, “Is that it?”</p><p>He gamely leans forward. “Yes, that’s it.” Before she has a chance to laugh at him picking up on coconut oil of all things, he adds, “Since you’re not at work, could you call me Bas? Or Sébastien. And I’m fine being Booker with friends, but when it’s just you and me it’s…” He twists the mug in his hand.</p><p>“Too close to work?” she offers.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>They make small talk and complain about how the cheddar jalapeno bagels here don’t have enough jalapenos, which is why he got the scone. Eventually, Nile says, “...so, you know how I said I didn’t have any other clients last week?”</p><p>“Mm.”</p><p>“I don’t have any other clients at all.”</p><p>Booker looks up at her, startled.</p><p>“I’m quitting. I’ve been trying to, but I keep sticking around.” <em>Because of you</em>. “I’ve been bottling the rest of my milk and selling it.”</p><p>Booker’s mouth hangs open. “Selling it?”</p><p>She frowns. “That’s not a problem,” she states firmly. Even though bottled milk doesn’t pay as well as bartending, she’s still making pretty good money.</p><p>“No! No, it’s yours to do with as you please. I’m just surprised. Why exactly are you telling me this?”</p><p>“I’m ready to switch jobs, but if you’d like to continue, we can do it during my off-time.”</p><p>“Your personal time?” His eyebrows go up, and even the wrinkles all over his face don’t deter her from this madness she’s diving into.</p><p>“If you feel comfortable with it. Quỳnh can referee.” That’s not unheard of, especially between bartenders.</p><p>“No, no, that’s fine. But may I ask why me?”</p><p>She sighs heavily. No way out but being honest. “I want to get to know you outside of work, because it’s really awkward being attracted to you while also nursing you.” He gapes at her, and it’s kinda adorable he’s surprised. “Too blunt?”</p><p>“Ah, no. I mean, you’re a beautiful young woman, and I won’t say the thought <em>hasn’t</em> crossed my mind, but I know there are boundaries to your work and I don’t want to cross them. You and Mona have both been very good to me.”</p><p>Nile nods. “Which is why I want to stop seeing you as my client. I’m happy to refer you to any of the other bartenders. Dizzy might be a good fit.” Dizzy’s another omega. They’d briefly dated, and it’d been good having someone who knew exactly what it was like to be a milk bartender. But they’d realized they’d mistaken deep admiration for desire and became friends instead.</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” he confirms.</p>
<hr/><p>Their first outing is to a Salvadoran food truck parked by the lake. Afterwards they walk around, enjoying the peaceful view of the water, and the people doing everything from promenading to acroyoga. Since it goes well, it becomes an ongoing thing. They try new restaurants, wander downtown during the farmer’s market, and she even makes him try on a ridiculous straw hat. Other times they make recipes from the internet in his shoebox kitchen; or watch Masterchef, admiring how pretty Padma is. They usually end their outing with Bas suckling.</p><p>On one of their Friday night TV dates, Bas comes back from his job as a teacher’s aide, and Nile can tell he’s off. (He gave her the passcode to his door after she was left standing in front of his apartment complex while he was waylaid by the afterschool program director. Fortunately, his neighbor let her in, and kept her company until he’d arrived.) She’d normally pause the TV, but she’s found he likes having white noise.</p><p>“Bas, come here.” She waves him over, and he collapses into her lap. Doesn’t even reach for her blouse, just buries his face in her lap. “What happened? Do you wanna talk about it?”</p><p>Rolling onto his back, he covers his face with his arm. “One of the kids insisted on getting a scratch and sniff sticker, and I don’t know why but –” His voice is choked off by a sob. She rubs her thumb along his shoulder, letting him know she’s here. “Fuck, I know why. This isn’t a nice story, do you really want to know, Nile?” He moves his arm to look at her, and his eyes are red.</p><p>“Yeah, baby, I do.”</p><p>“It reminded me of my son, Henri.” Nile knows this isn’t going to end well. She’s seen him without his shirt on occasion, the stretchmarks on his belly. “I had three sons Nile, and I lost them and Celeste in an accident.”</p><p>“Oh, Bas, I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s okay, it’s been a long time. We had them young, and people laughed at us for having three no less! But still, sometimes the grief still hits me, and I think <em>I still have more left in me? Aren’t I done with this yet?</em>”</p><p>Nile strokes his temple, remembering Quỳnh calling his heart a soft thing. “My mother always tells me when I’m unsure like that, that I’ll always be her little girl no matter what. But I guess your packmates wouldn’t call you that.”</p><p>Something crosses Bas’ eyes, wide and wanting, and Nile tucks it away.</p><p>“It’ll be alright,” she says instead. “How about I order Ethiopian and we watch more <em>Terrace House</em>?”</p><p>They binge six episodes. Nile feeds bits of curried lentils, injera, and goat to Bas who takes it very sweetly from her and is a tidy eater. He doesn’t notice his fastidious nibbles against her fingertips are distracting her from the show.</p><p><em>Down girl, </em>she thinks. <em>Do not pounce on the sad hot man.</em></p>
<hr/><p>The first time they have sex takes Nile by surprise.</p><p>“Hold up, Bas,” she says mid-way through their nursing, “I…”</p><p>He looks up at her. “What is it, chère?”</p><p>She feels her face getting hot, much like her pussy. “I’m getting turned on.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, as if it’s no big deal. “Do you want me to take care of that for you?”</p><p>“What?” She’s a bit thrown by how casually he offers it.</p><p>“You give me a lot of pleasure, let me give you some in return.”</p><p>“Yeah, but that’s not sexual. You’re offering to fuck me out of… friendship?”</p><p>His eyes are kind. “I thought you were the young one,” he jokes, “I am okay with things being flexible.”</p><p><em>I’ll show you flexible</em>, is on the tip of her tongue. And maybe this is a questionable idea, but she <em>wants</em> him in a way she isn’t sure how else to express. “Okay,” she says, “But no dick in my pussy please.” That’s a bit too much for a platonic(-ish?) fuck, even for her.</p><p>They briefly discuss testing. Neither of them have been seeing anyone, but they decide to get tested anyway later. It feels a little silly given he’s been drinking her milk so long, but, “It’s good form,” she says. “Haven’t you heard old people have the highest growing rate of STIs?” He groans. “We can go to Planned Parenthood together.”</p><p>“You want to do this again, and I haven’t even touched you yet?” he asks.</p><p>“I’m far from done with you,” she replies, and Bas glows in response.</p><p>So they grab a condom, cut it in half to use as a dental dam, and lube it up. Even with the dental dam, it’s the best oral sex she’s ever gotten. He keeps looking up at her, attentive to every twist and bitten off sigh until she lets go of all her moans.</p><p>When she’s close to coming, she needs to hold onto something. Her hand reaches for her breast, something she usually doesn’t do on her own anymore because of the mess. Urging Bas to come up, as he rubs her clit, she squeezes her breast, milk squirting into Bas’ waiting mouth. And just like she thought, he happily licks away the excess too.</p><p>As Bas throws the condom away, Nile marvels at his sex skills. He’d been so devoted to her pleasure, she considers knitting him a brown pussy hat.</p><p>Once Bas returns, he tugs Nile’s underwear back on, and gets them situated on the couch. Nile’s legs still aren’t working, so he settles her on top of him, and pulls a blanket over them. His arms are strong, and his leg hooks over her. Safe and sound, she lets herself enjoy her post-orgasm nap.</p>
<hr/><p>They start to spend more time on the couch pressed against each other: Bas’ head in her lap, her cuddled up under his shoulder. They have, also, occasionally napped comfortably tangled up together. Bas is oddly quiescent about sex; he doesn’t try to push her towards it, and Nile deepens her relationship with her vibrator. When she asks him about it, he says, “You meant it when you said there’d be a next time, right?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she says.</p><p>“Then I trust you. It’ll happen when it happens.” And she realizes he isn’t pushy because he is utterly confident she meant what she said.</p><p>She kisses him, hard and fierce, and his hands stay firmly on her hips. “Give me time to wrap my head around this flexible-thing then.”</p><p>Leaning his forehead against hers, he sighs. “Nile.” And it’s like he’s saying more than just her name.</p><p>They settle back on the couch, his arm around her waist, and her fingers playing with the hairs at the base of his neck. With <em>The Half of It</em> done, Netflix begins playing <em>The Great British Bake-Off</em>. At the sound of Paul Hollywood, her breasts give that tell-tale twinge.</p><p>“Oh fuck,” she says. “Can you let me up?” She has a couple of nursing pads in her purse.</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” She already misses his warmth as she scrambles up. Once she’s done rooting through her purse, she slides them down her bra.</p><p>“You’re welcome to bring a pump.”</p><p>“Nah, it’s fine.” She plops back onto her warm spot on the couch. “I’m not producing as much now. It’s the show mostly, I put it on when I pump, and it’s like my boobs have a Pavlovian response to it.” She rubs at one idly.</p><p>“Do you… want help with it?” Booker offers cautiously.</p><p>“It’s gonna make you loopy.”</p><p>He shrugs. “I don’t have anywhere to be, and I know it’s uncomfortable.”</p><p>She cocks her head. “Did you nurse your kids?”</p><p>“I wish!” His laugh is actually warm. “I tried, but I couldn’t make enough milk. That’s how I first wound up at a milk bar. They were hoping if I nursed, it’d induce lactation. C’mere.”</p><p>They leave the TV on, and he nurses. And for the first time, he doesn’t let himself sink deeply down. His focus is different too, more about making her comfortable than pursuing his own bliss. He’s still a little dopey when they’re done, but he’s able to get up and make an easy dinner – instant noodles spruced up with fresh veggies, meat, and an egg.</p><p>He throws the bowls onto the coffee table, and then sits beside her. He usually sits so daintily, as if he’s mindful of his size, but he flops onto the couch and leans against her. “So who won the challenge?” he asks, reaching for his bowl.</p><p>When they’re done, empty bowls resting on their magazines-turned-coasters, Booker falls asleep on her shoulder. She doesn’t mind.</p><p>While she isn’t going to ruin her hair by sleeping over, a small nap won’t hurt. Tipping her head against his, she presses a kiss to his crown and closes her eyes.</p>
<hr/><p>“Today was hard,” Bas says when he calls at 8pm.</p><p>“You want me to come over?”</p><p>“I wish, but I don’t want to impose. But you could…”</p><p>“I could what, Bas?”</p><p>He rubs at his stubble, the sound coming through the phone. “Could you… tell me what your mom tells you?”</p><p>“That I’ll always be her little girl?”</p><p>“...yes.”</p><p>Nile taps her fingers against her thighs. “Bas, I don’t know what it is that has you so beat-down. But at the end of the day, it’s you and me, yeah? You have a pack, but you called <em>me</em>. And I think about you, hazy from my milk and then I think about you going down on me and...” she huffs, “Not even just then. When it was your head on the couch, I thought about it, like somehow between now and then I… I think, <em>yeah, that’s my little girl</em>.” He lets out a high whine on his side of the phone. “Yeah, Bas, even though today is terrible, I’m still here little girl. And I’ll be here tomorrow too when we go out for breakfast. What about pancakes? I could come by tomorrow with the Bisquick from my kitchen...”</p><p>When they’re done with the phone, she’s yawning and ready to go to bed. “Next time, Bas, it’s alright to invite me over in person. I don’t like leaving things half-done.”</p><p>“Okay,” he says. “I have some things to do first, then.”</p><p>She’s not entirely sure what that means given she’s over there a lot already. Yawning, she gets ready for bed.</p>
<hr/><p>Quỳnh pokes at her so-called-paella that contains sausage and says, “You should come by for dinner, Nile; meet the pack.”</p><p>Nile’s visited Quỳnh’s condo and her wife Andy. But an invitation to meet the pack is different. “Is this about me and Bas?”</p><p>“Of course it is. Now that the two of you are together, your scents are all over each other. Joe and Nicky are mercilessly teasing Booker about who he’s seeing, and they want to meet you.”</p><p>Nile toys with her glass of hibiscus tea. “Is it okay that I don’t know exactly what he and I are to each other?”</p><p>“Ah. Are you worried we’re going to ask you your intentions?”</p><p>“Kinda?” She hasn’t met Joe and Nicky, but Quỳnh and Andy could certainly bury her in their balcony that looks like a mini-greenhouse.</p><p>“Do you care about him?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then that’s all that matters to us. Pack, mate, best friend, it doesn’t matter to us what you call it. Your scent is laid on him as thickly as ours is, and Booker is <em>happy</em>. We’ve been his pack for a long time, and he hasn’t been interested in anyone new since his wife died.”</p><p>Nile knows it’s been awhile since his wife and children. “He’s seen other people since then though.”</p><p>Quỳnh rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “So he had some outings and dalliances. We couldn’t smell them on him the way we could you.”</p><p>“Wait, you could smell me on him even before he and I started meeting outside of work?”</p><p>Quỳnh’s quirky grin is answer enough. “It was thin then. It’s very thick now. As thick as ours on him.”</p><p>Since forever, people (Nile included, with her first love, an alpha named Reggie) had tried to scent mark their loved ones, swapping clothes and toiletries, with kisses and cum. But there was never a single universal deed that made it so. It’s a lot like love – it can grow gradually, but sometimes it falls upon you all at once. Aunt Mirai had described it best: “When you know in your bones this is your person, you keep that scent close to you. Doesn’t matter if you think or say you love someone; the body keeps its own wisdom.” And it’s not like Hollywood or romance novels where people lovers start carrying each other’s scents simultaneously. She knows she’s not carrying his scent. Her mom would <em>definitely</em> have asked the last time she went home, and her brother would have razzed the hell out of her.</p><p>She and Booker haven’t even been <em>trying</em> and he’s scentbonded to her.</p><p>She shivers. It occurs to her that Bas is likely the kind of person who held on to his mate’s scent long after she died, the kind of man who cleaves and holds fast. She’ll have to talk to him about this. Her mom raised her right, after all.</p><p>“You’re terrifying,” Nile admits.</p><p>“You love it.”</p><p>“Of course I do.” Nile steals a spoonful of the paella. Despite its offensive use of sausage, she thinks it’s tasty. Quỳnh pushes the rest of her plate towards Nile and takes her rack of lamb.</p><p>“Let us introduce you to the rest of the family,” Quỳnh offers. “You don’t have one here yet, and I keep pestering Andy for a little sister since she won’t get me a puppy.”</p><p>Nile knows that is absolutely false, and Andy would do anything for her wife, as evidenced by the amount of plants in their house. She laughs. “Alright.”</p>
<hr/><p>She can’t stop thinking about Booker wearing her scent like that cozy knit sweater of his. So she asks, “When did you know you smell like me?”</p><p>Booker sighs, setting down the crossword he’s doing on his tablet. “You talked to Andy didn’t you?”</p><p>“Quỳnh, actually.”</p><p>He stretches out on the chair, kicking his foot against the table to lean back, arms behind his head. His biceps and chest look very climbable. “I noticed after I had that bad day, and I called you.” Nile nods. “I wondered if that was what did it, but the rest of the pack’s been teasing me, so maybe it’s been longer. I don’t mind. Do you?”</p><p>“No, if anything the opposite. Bas, I know you said you were fine with flexible, but <em>I </em>don’t know…” She tries to find her words, and Booker waits. It’s one of the things she loves about him, that he’s not afraid of silences, is willing to let her wait to find the right words. “…I know words like pack, mate, best friend, lover, family, are just words to help other people understand what a relationship is. But they’re also about responsibility to the people we care about.”</p><p>“You’re worried you’re taking advantage of me?” he asks with raised eyebrows. “You’re at least twenty years too late if it’s my virtue you’re after.”</p><p>She kicks his foot. “I’m worried I’m making promises I’m unaware of, and I keep my promises.”</p><p>“Oh, Nile, I am fine with what we have.”</p><p>Nile’s mouth firms. “But what do we have Booker? No offense, but I deserve a clear understanding of what this is. We’re not bartender and client anymore. We’re friends, but we’re not casual friends if you’re wearing my scent. If you want a full relationship, then you deserve that, not an ambiguous … this.” She waves her hands.</p><p>Booker nods. “What if we let it ride a little longer? Sometimes you have to let a plant grow before you know what kind of flower it’ll become.”</p><p>She’s a little stunned by his turn of phrase, but maybe he’s learned something from Quỳnh and Andy’s greenhouse. “Okay, but this won’t be the last time we talk about this.”</p><p>“I hope not,” he says with a smile. “Now, I have the Jeni’s green mint chip ice cream you like. Would you like a scoop?”</p><p>“Oh, absolutely.”</p>
<hr/><p>Now that she’s paying more attention to Booker’s scent, she notices when he’s in heat. People always forget that hormonal-induced horniness happens to betas too.</p><p>She’s a little worried it’d be rude of her to ask, but what is one more intimacy between them? And Booker’s pretty laid-back when it comes to talking anyway. And okay, a small part of her finds the sugar-sweet scent of him appealing. “Did you want help?”</p><p>“With washing the plates? No, it’s alright, go ahead and finish up <em>Heartstrings</em>. I can hear it fine from here.”</p><p>“I’m pretty sure I know the family is going to be okay with their son being gay, but I meant with your heat?”</p><p>He sets the soapy dinner plate down and looks at her. “I’m not complaining, but what happened to not wanting to take advantage? When I went down on you, you weren’t in heat, and I wasn’t wearing your scent.”</p><p>“Weren’t you the one who said just to let it ride? Let me do this for you.”</p><p>Wiping his hands on the towel looped over the oven, he pads over to her in the living room. For such a big man, he walks so softly. He kneels down at her feet, and takes her hands. “But do <em>you</em> want to, Nile?”</p><p>She extricates one hand, and rubs her thumb against his cheek. He leans against her palm. “Ever since Quỳnh mentioned you smell like me, I…” she bites her lip. “You smell like me, but I wasn’t <em>trying </em>to do that. If we do this, then I can know I did it deliberately, that I meant it. That even if I don’t have the words yet, I do mean <em>this</em>. You’ll smell like me and I’ll have meant it.” She presses her forehead against his, and together they breathe.</p><p>His hand covers hers. “And sex has been a way to express closeness for forever,” he says, and she’s not sure to who. “Alright then, let’s go to bed. I’m too old for anything on a couch other than a quickie.”</p><p>And that’s how she winds up four fingers deep into Booker’s gushing pussy, and whispering in awe, “Holy shit, I could fist you.”</p><p>He groans at that, head falling back onto the mound of pillows they’d heaped so he could watch her work him open. “Nile, don’t say things like that. I won’t last, and I want to come with you riding me.”</p><p>“Condom?” He motions to the nightstand, and after she puts it on him, she climbs on top for the ride of her life. The stretch feels good, but it takes her a moment to adjust – she hasn’t given herself the same foreplay she had him. She distracts herself by running one hand up his chest, and the other, the one with wet fingers, teasing his nipple. She can feel how tightly he’s wound, holding himself back from jackrabbiting into her. She rewards him by saying, “Good girl,” as she squeezes around him.</p><p>His eyes roll back. “<em>Nile</em>,” he pleads. “I’m so close.”</p><p>“What’s the magic word?”</p><p>And without hesitation, he moans, “Please, Daddy, let me be good for you.” Which is not what Nile expected, but she can’t deny it feels very, very good. She can’t help the way she shudders around him, and then she rides him <em>hard</em>, a sense of ferocious urgency come over her. He’s hot and heavy inside of her, and she thinks she might be able to have all of him – him in the morning making pain perdu; him in boxers that smell like her laundry detergent; Bas in her bed, all sleepy smiles when she grips his morning wood.</p><p>“Oh, fuck, Bas, baby girl, come inside me, come inside me,” she urges.</p><p>“Not until you Daddy,” he says, and he sucks his fingers, putting on a show for her that reminds her of when his mouth’s between her legs. Then he reaches down, rubbing at her clit, and she comes, helplessly clenching down on him.</p><p>She’s still quivering around him, sweat pooling at the small of her back when she orders him to fuck her hard to his own finish. She loves it when his thrusts grow rapid, uncontrolled, desperate. Savors watching him chase his pleasure and find it.</p><p>Afterwards, as she lays on his chest, she asks, “How did you know I wouldn’t like being called Mommy?”</p><p>Booker blinks at her. “You talked about it during our appointments. About all sorts of things, even if I didn’t understand the difference between shampoo and cowash. But you talked about working at a milk bar and being Black and an omega, and mammies?”</p><p>“You were listening,” she repeats in awe. “I thought you were totally blissed out on my milk.”</p><p>“I mean I was, and I had to do some Googling on misogynoir,” he says the word slowly, still figuring out the right way to say it, “and how it applied to pancake syrup, but you have a very nice voice.”</p><p>“I’m gonna make you read Karnythia’s Twitter,” she says in wonder.</p><p>“I don’t know what that means, but if you send me a link, I’ll check it out.” She’s pretty sure he knows what Twitter is, but is too sexed-out to remember. Pleased, she presses a kiss to his chest.</p><p>“Will do, little girl.”</p>
<hr/><p>As she’s rooting through Booker’s pantry to make lunch, she sees her favorite kind of Pocky along with spices and condiments that weren’t there months before. She knows for a fact Booker does not eat his popcorn with Everything But the Bagel seasoning. Come to think of it, he hadn’t had the fuzzy blankets and brightly patterned pillows on his couch when she first started visiting. He’d even added some shredded memory foam pillows on his bed too, after she’d mentioned how much she liked them. And there’s extra space in his bathroom and closet now, as if waiting to be filled…</p><p>She realizes then, that despite her best intentions, she’s fallen into the common queer trap of not knowing exactly what to call what she and Booker are. She’s glad it’s not monetary anymore, because this is hard enough for her to wrap her head around. She stares at the sourdough starter next to the stand mixer, as if it holds the answers.</p><p>“You’ve gone and made your apartment… cozy, extra comfortable, just for me,” she tells him.</p><p>“Yes,” he trails off, waiting to see where she’s going.</p><p>“This isn’t just a sex thing is it, not even with the whole Daddy thing, is it? And if you were just about the convenience of my milk, you wouldn’t have Tajin next to your herbs de provence, either.”</p><p>“No. If it was just about any of those, I wouldn’t be asking Joe about how he cares for his hair. His hair’s not like yours, but it is curly.”</p><p>Her heart gives a flip. “Are we dating then? We do all the things couples do. You even hold my scent against your skin like a favorite blanket. And…” she steadies herself, “does that mean you love me?”</p><p>Booker is silent, and she knows he’s thinking through his answer carefully. “Do I love you the way Andy and Quỳnh or Nicky and Joe do each other? No. But it’s not the way I love them either. There is a great deal of care, and I think if we continue as we do now… where I come home to you, and I look forward to seeing you talk about the latest episode of <em>Master Chef</em>, and I go to bed thinking of the smell of your hair, it would be hard not to fall in love with you.</p><p>“Is what confuses you that we began with intimacy instead of sexual attraction? Because to me, what does it matter as long as it ends with the two of us here, right now?”</p><p>“Bas…”</p><p>“If you’re serious though, I’d like to do all the other things too: hold your hand, find out if you like flowers, go to the movies, and argue about whether we should own sporks. Ah, and listen to your day at work too! I know you value your work.”</p><p>This man! “That’s sweet, but I never meant to stay a bartender as long as I did. Actually, I was ready to quit before you became a regular.”</p><p>“Oh,” he says, a small smile. “Is it bad that makes me glad?”</p><p>Nile shrugs. “Does it matter? Regardless of how we got here, you’re my little girl.”</p><p>His smile transforms into something beatific. Pressing her forehead against his, she links their hands together and breathes the same air as him. She knows where this is going now, and she’ll make this as sweet as she can.</p>
<hr/><p>Bas invites her to the local theater group’s outdoor play, but she asks if they can go another day. It’s her wash day, and she’s been looking forward to catching up on her favorite podcasts.</p><p>“Oh! Well, can I help? I’ve been watching YouTube videos.”</p><p>She’s quiet.</p><p>“Nile?”</p><p>“Your packmate, Joe, was giving you hair advice right? And he has curly hair?” Booker hums an affirmative. She wonders which of the scents Bas carries is Joe’s; it’s hard for her to pick individual scents out when she hasn’t met the person. “Okay, you can come over and help if you let me shave your junk.”</p><p>“That sounds risky,” he says, equal parts amused and alarmed.</p><p>“About as risky as letting you practice on my hair and not Joe’s.”</p><p>He chuckles, warm and low. “Alright then.”</p><p>He comes to her apartment, and while he’s clearly curious about where she lives, he doesn’t awkwardly gawk about. She does walk slowly towards the bathroom, giving him time to look around at the obnoxious but comfy corduroy couch and the Polaroids and pictures of her loved ones strung with the lights.</p><p>She leads him into the bathroom, where she has all her products laid out. She tells him she’s gotta shower first anyway, so he can wait in the living room or in the bathroom with her.</p><p>“Here, please.” He perches himself on the counter. As the steam fills the room, he thumbs through his phone, and if he does sneak the occasional peak at her, she doesn’t complain.</p><p>When she gets to her hair, she slides the door open. “Okay, hand me the shampoo and conditioner.” She talks him through it as she works through her sectioned off hair.</p><p>He listens patiently, and when she gets to the deep conditioner, she decides he can help detangle one very, very small section. His hands are surprisingly gentle, and he knows to work from the ends up. He watches intently as she finishes the rest. He asks the occasional question, but for the most part, they talk about Shakespeare. He pauses midway, wondering if he’s interrupting her podcast time? But she realizes she doesn’t mind catching up on <em>Welcome to Night Vale</em> another day.</p><p>Once her shower cap’s on, she reaches for the zipper of his pants. “Sex? Now?” he yelps.</p><p>“No, you’re about to keep your word and let me shave you.”</p><p>The squeak he makes is something she’ll remember for a long time. “I’ll go easy on you, don’t worry Bas.”</p><p>The last person she helped shave was Dizzy before a photoshoot; she’d nicked her hand and couldn’t grip the razor well. Nile does a good job if she says so herself, no razor burn or nicks. After she pats Bas dry, she rubs some coconut oil on him. “Atta girl.” The faintest hint of blush dusts his cheeks and his cock gives a small twitch.</p><p>Since they’re both wet now, she lets him help rinse out her deep conditioner. He sits quietly, mellowed out by his orgasm, as she applies her leave-in and does her twist out. When she goes to pull him off his perch on her counter, he reaches for her robe. Once it’s off her, he grabs the coconut oil again.</p><p>“Joe did say being moisturized was important.”</p><p>She giggles, but he’s diligent about moisturizing her, working the oil from the tips of her toes and up to her neck, where she insists he use her actual facial moisturizer. With her skin is soft and glistening, she decides it’s time to go to bed.</p><p>He happily follows, and she pulls his mouth close to her chest. “I don’t have a lot of milk right now, but is it alright if you nurse?”</p><p>Booker’s gaze grows soft, and he cups her breast. “You’ve never asked me before.”</p><p>“What?” Nile pauses, thinks about it. “I didn’t say why I wanted to see you outside of work at first, did I?”</p><p>“No. Will you tell me?”</p><p>She nods. “At first I liked the way you looked when you nursed, how you felt under my hands, the way you scent deepened and stretched out like milk that’s finally become dulce de leche after hours and hours. And then I started wondering what it’d be like if you didn’t walk through the door and leave at the end. And then I started having all these… shit, domestic daydreams! Literally the stuff we do now, takeout and terrible coasters included. Except in those fantasies, you were using my laundry detergent.” He makes a small sound at that one. “I was going to stop being a bartender, but I wanted to know… I wanted to know. And then I got used to watching reality TV with you, and teasing you about packing sunscreen when we went to the beach, and watching you nurse too. And that’s why I asked now, because I love the way you go sleepy and loose, and I can touch you all I want. I love being able to be this close to you, and… Shit, I…” <em>love you. </em>But the words are too big to escape her throat right now, but Booker sees it in her eyes. He nuzzles against her throat, and smiles like he has a secret.</p><p>“It’s okay, I can wait. But tell me, one day, yes?”</p><p>“Yeah. I mean, yes, Bas. Now, c’mere.” He settles in against her, pulling the sheets around them and doing his best to cover her shoulders.</p><p>As he suckles from her, his arm tightens around her, like she’s all he needs right now. Running her fingers through his hair, she falls asleep.</p><p>*</p><p>In the morning, she wakes snuggled against his side and fully under the blankets. He must’ve tucked her in after she fell asleep. Beside her, Booker is warm and sure, and also wriggling and rubbing his thighs together. When he sees she’s awake, he whispers, “Everything feels so <em>sensitive</em>,” then bites his lip. And how can Nile resist that?</p><p>With how worked up he already is, it doesn’t take much for him to become desperate for her mouth, her fingers, her strap-on, “Anything you’ll give me,” he begs. And as appealing as the thought of him riding her purple strap is, she wants her hand deep inside him. Grabbing lube from her nightstand, she warms him up slowly, alternating using her mouth to tease his cock and to coax and praise how well he’s taking her fingers.</p><p>“Look how well you’re taking Daddy’s hand,” she says when she’s four fingers in. He squeezes around her. “You really want it don’t you?”</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em> Nile...”</p><p>“Can you take a little more?”</p><p>“Yes, yes,” he pants. And then she gently presses her whole hand into him, and he takes all of her beautifully, easily, making space for her in every part of him.</p><p>“You really are the sweetest,” she says, kissing the stretchmarks on his belly. “Can you give me a little more sweetness? Can you come all over my hand?”</p><p>He nods against the pillow. “Yes, Daddy, <em>yes</em>.” Smiling, she licks the crown of his cock, and he comes all over her and her bed sheets.</p><p>After he leaves, she doesn’t wash the sheets right away. She wants to remember the scent of him, satisfied pack-and-mate, all over her and her bed.</p><p>She sends him a text, <em>That thing I promised I’d tell you. I’ll tell my little girl the same thing too.</em></p><p>And he replies, <em>You know how to make a girl blush. I look forward to hearing it.</em></p>
<hr/><p>Her next phone call with her mother, Nile says, “I’m seeing someone.”</p><p>“Oh? You gonna let me call them your boyfriend, or am I gonna have to call them your ‘friend?’”</p><p>“Boyfriend,” she says firmly. “I let him help with my hair.”</p><p>“Oh. I see. Well, I better check with your aunties and see what we can rustle up for him. You think he can learn to do it like you did at your graduation? You looked so nice with it like that, but you don’t normally do it.”</p><p>“Because it’s a lot of work!” It’s not as if doing a braided mohawk is impossible. She just doesn’t enjoy having to plan out the design, and braiding her own hair always feels like an eternity.</p><p>“And now you have an extra set of hands who’ll do it free. And do it well, if we train him right! You could always bring him home so I can show him.”</p><p>“Mom!”</p><p>“Nile,” she says conspiratorially, “it’s that sturdy looking man your brother showed me on your Instagram right? Because Tricia’s daughter just started dating a white boy. And if I tell everyone you’re with a nice, <em>older</em>, white man, I’ll one-up her!”</p><p>“Well, in that case, you can mention age does yield experience.”</p><p>“Nile!” she inhales, and then breaks into peals of scandalized delight. “Oh, yes, your aunts are gonna love this.”</p><p>*</p><p>Over dinner, she tells Bas about it. “My mom wants to tell all her friends about us.” He stares at her with his mouth open. She leans over the table to tweak his nose. “Don’t worry, she’s going to say good things. She likes you. As long as I’m happy, she’s cool.”</p><p>“I make you happy?” he asks wondrously. And Jesus, it’s so easy to get this man to look at her like she gave him a puppy on Christmas. Which makes her admire how open he is, and curse how incredibly attractive it is.</p><p>“Yeah. I guess… I can make it clearer to you.” She thinks for a moment, thinking of that Five Love Language quiz she and Dizzy took when the bar was slow. Bas is clearly an acts of service person, but if he likes hearing her words, she can do that too. “I talk about how sweet you are when you’re nursing and when we break out the Daddy stuff, but what about if I use my words outside of then too?”</p><p>“I know I am a man, and my ego needs no stroking… <em>but</em>, yes, I find myself hungry for your praise.”</p><p>“Like now?”</p><p>He nods eagerly.</p><p>“Alright then,” she laughs. “I’m happy thinking about having you meet my family. My mom and my aunts are going to tease you and give you all the advice you never asked for on how to make me happy.”</p><p>“I’ll take notes.”</p><p>“As long as you run them by me afterwards. My aunties think they know everything about me, but I do keep some things to myself.</p><p>“I have a little brother too you know. And just thinking of so many people I love all together in a room…” she sighs, happy.</p><p>He pulls her from her chair, grabbing her by the waist and swinging her around. When her feet are on the ground again, he asks, “And what can I do for you, Nile?”</p><p>She thinks of her father and her older brother, both gone because of the military, and how her mother had begged her to choose anything else to fund her college degree. There are so many shit hands her family has been dealt, but here – here is somewhere safe, someone who is hers.</p><p>“Let me have this as long as I can,” she replies. “I want something good.”</p>
<hr/><p>It’s the holidays so between obligations and requisite down time, it takes Nile a while to meet the rest of Bas’ pack.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Bas asks as they’re in the elevator to Quỳnh and Andy’s condo. Nile’s tightly holding her coconut cake.</p><p>“I’m a little nervous.” She’s met Andy, but not Joe and Nicky. “Seeing all of you <em>together</em> is differently than individually.”</p><p>He strokes his hand down her back. “I’ve been looking forward to this,” he admits. She makes an encouraging noise. “All the people I love in one place, isn’t that how you put it?”</p><p>Nile’s worries and her heart melts. If she wasn’t worried about dropping the cake, she’d hug him tightly. As it is, she steps right in and kisses his jaw.</p><p>*</p><p>Joe and Nicky turn out to be a mated alpha couple and incredibly easy to get along with. Joe’s gregarious, and Nicky clearly enjoys watching his husband’s enthusiasm. When she talks to Nicky, he’s just as well-spoken, talking to her at length about how she got her seven-minute frosting to stay so soft. In exchange, he tells her about how he makes meringues, including his controversial choice to omit the ground almonds. Eventually Joe places his chin on Nicky’s head.</p><p>“So I hear <em>you’re</em> the one I can thank for Booker knowing not to dry brush my hair,” Nile says. Behind them, Quỳnh is arguing with Andy and Booker about a harness of some kind.</p><p>Joe’s laughter is warm. “Yes. Although you really should thank Nicky, he’s the one who made that mistake.”</p><p>Nicky sighs. “I was young and ignorant, I repent of my sins, and I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to make it up to you. Your hair is a gift to the world, dear one.” He presses a kiss to Joe’s temple.</p><p>Joe beams. “See what a wonderful man I married!” and pulls him closer with an arm around his waist.</p><p>“Are they always so adorable?” she asks Bas once he leaves Quỳnh and Andy arguing about Crisco versus Boy Butter. Quỳnh and Andy are like that, talking about something totally vulgar, and then pivoting to obscure weaponry facts.</p><p>“Yes,” he says, and then touches the small of her back. “It used to bother me, but not so much anymore.”</p><p>*</p><p>During dinner, Booker fills up Nile’s plate. Usually she’d decline, but she’s learned he really enjoys doing this. He makes sure to get her a piece of the chicken that has plenty of meat and crispy skin, and scoops up the green beans and salad for her as well. He lets her pour her own dressing though. He hasn’t yet mastered the way she likes to pour it counter-clockwise with most of it at the edge of the plate.</p><p>Conversation through dinner is fast, with everyone making sure Nile feels part of the flow, even if she hasn’t had as much time to build casual references and jokes. As they’re clearing the dishes to make room for the cake, Quỳnh pulls Booker aside. Without someone watching Quỳnh, she’ll inevitably dip her finger into the frosting, so won’t Booker tell her all about Nile’s cake?</p><p>Booker sees right through her ploy. He shoots Nile a glance asking, <em>Are you okay if I leave you alone with them?</em></p><p>She grins and gives a thumbs up. Turning to his pack, she asks, “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”</p><p>Nicky gives his own soft smile, hand in Joe’s back pocket. “We just wanted to talk to you without poor Booker stressing out; the scent of it was strong.”</p><p>She tips her head, “Go on then, sniff away.” They could sniff her anywhere, but the neck is the traditional place. Each of them takes their turn, Nicky to the crown of her head, Joe to the traditional point by her pulse, and Andy on the other side of her neck, and then each presses their cheek to hers.</p><p>“Your scents are all over each other,” Nicky says.</p><p>“You’re scentbonded,” Andy adds.</p><p>“You smell like pack, or… mates?” Joe asks, rubbing his beard.</p><p>Nile would snort at the clear theatrics of it, but she’s thinking, <em>Oh, it’s finally happened</em>. She could let herself wonder at what it means, but she remembers her conversation with Quỳnh months ago and then with Bas. “Is there a difference?”</p><p>Nicky’s eyes soften and he leans against Joe. “No, there isn’t.”</p><p>“Also,” she adds, thinking of her promise to him, “it’d be unfair to talk to you about it before I told him.”</p><p>Andy punches her hard in the arm. “Atta girl. I would tell you that you gotta keep a firm hand with that boy, but you’ve got it well in hand.”</p><p>*</p><p>When she and Bas are home and she’s taking out her earrings, she asks, “When were you going to tell me I carry your scent?” She’s genuinely curious.</p><p>“They told you, didn’t they? When Quỳnh was talking to me about your coconut cake.” She nods. “I wanted to let you notice it yourself. You’ve been struggling to figure out what to call this, and I didn’t want to pressure you.”</p><p>“You’re not pressuring me. Have I been pressuring <em>you </em>by calling you my boyfriend?”</p><p>“No!” he replies very quickly. “Can I officially call you my girlfriend then?” He is adorably excited about it, holding the pajamas he grabbed for her. She has a drawer full of her things in his house now and a bathroom shelf with her toiletries.</p><p>“You asking me to go steady with you, Book?” she teases. (She’d noticed his pack calling him that, and she’d asked if she could call him that too. “Of course,” he replied.)</p><p>“I think we’re past that,” he laughs.</p><p>She lets herself be drawn into his arms. “Way past it,” she agrees, snuggling into him.</p>
<hr/><p>“So, about that boyfriend, Mom.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, Sébastien. I told Tricia, and she was ecstatic! It turns out she was worried we were all secretly judging her and her daughter. <em>Really</em>, like that’s what we’re going to worry about. Honestly, every family needs their token white person; they’re very handy in a pinch.”</p><p>Nile chuckles. “He’s been handy to me in other ways.”</p><p>“<em>Oh?</em>”</p><p>“Not like that Mom! I mean like, letting him help moisturize in the morning so I can doze a bit longer. Or, sleeping longer because he got me a coffee maker that you can program to be ready when you wake up.”</p><p>“Oh, well that is handy. But didn’t you say he was <em>experienced</em>?”</p><p>“I regret ever telling you that,” she giggles. “But I called to tell you something else.” She misses having a landline right now; she wants to curl the cord around her finger. Instead, she shifts her weight and paces a little. “We’re scentbonded now.”</p><p>Her mom grows quiet. “Oh, darling girl, whether he is your dearest friend, boyfriend, or mate, bring him home. I want to know anyone my little girl loves so much she would wear their scent like the finest perfume.”</p><p>“Yes, Mom. I will.”</p><p>“Can I tell Tricia this too? Her daughter isn’t wearing her white boy’s scent.”</p><p>“Yes, Mom,” she snorts.</p><p>“And bring that man home! I want to meet him! Make sure you’re not catfishing me, or what was that other word your brother called it, ‘fake dating!’”</p><p>“I assure you he’s real, and nothing’s fake.”</p><p>“Not even the orgasms?” That had been one of the pieces of dating advice her mom had given her.</p><p>“Mom! I’m hanging up now,” she laughs.</p><p>“Alright, Nile. I love you.”</p><p>“I love you too, Mom.”</p><p>*</p><p>“What do you say about visiting my family during spring break?” She wants more than a quick trip, she wants the time to show him all the places she grew up. Time for him to hang out with Tigris and for her Mom to ensure he doesn’t put anything like raisins in mac and cheese.</p><p>“I’d love to. You have time to prep me on how best to impress them.”</p><p>What she says is cheesy, but she doesn’t care. “You already got the most important part, remember? Making me happy.”</p><p>And damn if Bas doesn’t love the cheese too. He kisses her, because he’s full of feeling, and this is the easiest way to express it to her. She doesn’t mind.</p>
<hr/><p>“I’ve gone viral!” Nile exclaims to Bas over the phone. She’s so excited, she called instead of texted. She’s been at her new job, social media manager and occasional graphic designer for a local museum, for a month. And the images she made of cats Photoshopped into the museum’s favorite pieces is high on engagement and getting shared both by fans and other museum accounts.</p><p>“Congratulations Nile,” his voice is warm as a fuzzy blanket. “We should celebrate! Come on by. I’ll cook.” And Nile, having lived alone for a long while, is not about to pass up on someone else’s home cooking. Especially when it’s time with Bas, who actually likes to try the recipes food shows make.</p><p>So after she goes to grab strawberries and Nutella from the grocery story (even Bas can’t manage a four course meal in a couple of hours, and by the time Nile gets there, there won’t be enough time to let actual-chocolate dipped strawberries set), she heads on over. He has a casserole in the oven in a Le Creuset, and whatever it is smells good, it even has a bubbly, crisp crust around the edge.</p><p>“I know you’ve been working hard. I was thinking I’d just take care of you tonight?” he sounds both excited and tentative. The man has so much love to give, and she wonders if the grief-fueled bender he went on was, in part, perhaps because he had so much of it with nowhere to go. A pet might be good for him, she idly thinks, something small and long-lived.</p><p>“Sounds good to me,” she quickly agrees.</p><p>The casserole is easily the fanciest pot pie she’s ever had, and when she’s almost too full, he carts her to the bathroom, tucks her hair into a shower cap, and pulls her a bath. While it fills, they munch on the Nutella covered strawberries.</p><p>“You have lotion right?” she teases, when she’s getting into the bubbles.</p><p>“Your mother made sure of it,” he jokes right back. He reaches into the drawer and pulls out a tub of Eucerin and the fancy kind of coconut oil they sell as a skin product and not a food.</p><p>She settles into the hot water with a sigh. Having spotted the book in a Ziplock bag, to keep it safe from any rogue splashing, she motions with a bubbly hand. “You gonna read to me?”</p><p>“Of course.” They’ve spent the last few months reading each other their favorite books to each other, mostly children’s stuff so they weren’t stuck reading a 600 page epic for six months. She’d read him all the Corduroy books, and right now, they’re midway through <em>The Little Prince</em>. It’s taking longer because she shamelessly requested he read it to her in French and English at the same time.</p><p>(“Really?” he’d asked in surprise.</p><p>“It’s very attractive,” she replied.</p><p>“I should’ve let it slip earlier I was fluent.”)</p><p>He takes out the book and flips to the dog-eared page. “We were with the fox, yes? So... tu deviens responsable pour toujours de ce que tu as apprivoisé,” he begins, and she lets herself be lulled by his voice, the hot water, and the scent of eucalyptus.</p><p>*</p><p>Once she’s appropriately moisturized and bundled up in a powder blue robe, they fall into bed together. She nuzzles into his armpit, liking the scent of him. “I had one more thing I was thinking of doing for you,” he offers. She hums, listening. “Would you like to nurse from me?”</p><p>Nile hasn’t done this very much, just the typical sampling of her coworkers’ milk; and general nipple teasing as foreplay, with Bas even, but nothing quite like this. She glances up at him and searches his face. She can’t place what’s on it – want, earnestness, hopefulness? “Was the last time you did this with your sons?”</p><p>His fingers stroke the base of her neck, dipping beneath the robe’s collar. “Yes, but I want to give you this.”</p><p>“Okay.” She tugs at his shirt, and off it goes. It takes her a moment to remember the shape her mouth ought to make. But it comes back to her; when she was a bartender, they went over it whenever a new one started. She doesn’t have the callus as an easy reminder like Bas does. But his hand cups the back of her neck, and when she peaks up at him, his gaze is soft and he sighs.</p><p>So she sucks, and although he gives no milk, not even a rogue drop like hers did, she finds herself relaxed by his scent and the persistent stroke of his hands. They’re nice and big, and they feel good running down her back. He’d give good scalp massages too.</p><p>“I had a hard time expressing milk, even with my kids. I’m envious how easily it comes to you,” he idly says. Which is fairly common for male omegas; she tries to tell him this by wrapping her am tighter around him.</p><p>“I love you,” he continues, “you know that right? I know we’ve talked before, talked around it even, but a lot has changed. And I wanted to say it.” She begins to think he waited until now, when her mouth is occupied. There’s less pressure for him if she doesn’t have to reply. And yes, she knows he loves her, from the time he’s choosing to spend with her, introducing her to the rest of his pack – who he’s clearly been with for many, many years – to the way he’s made space for her in his life. She’s spied him eyeing apartment ads within walking distance of her job, which coincidentally enough, is closer to his school too.</p><p>Releasing his nipple, she leans up and kisses him softly. “Yeah, I know, Bas.” She could say the same words to him, but she doesn’t want the first time she tells him to be in reply. She wants to declare it, because he’s waited so long for her to say it. She’ll tell him after they sign the papers on the apartment she found, because she’s been looking too.</p>
<hr/><p>After they turn the lights off to go to sleep, her right breast starts to ache. And even though she’s let a lot of her milk dry out – neither she nor Bas want to nurse multiple times a day – she knows what a clogged duct feels like. She wonders if it’s the bra. Her size has changed and maybe she bought a size too small? Idly rubbing where the underwire had dug into her, she finds the tell-tale lump.</p><p>“What is it?” Bas mumbles beside her, throwing his arm across her.</p><p>“Clogged duct.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“You seem pretty intrigued,” she says amused.</p><p>“Well, before I realized you were retiring entirely from the bartending business, I wanted to do my best to be supportive. And the internet said clogged ducts can happen, and I wanted to be ready.”</p><p>She twists his hair around her finger. “That’s surprisingly sweet.”</p><p>Bas quickly glances at her phone. “It’s not <em>too</em> late. I can run you a bath and massage it for you.”</p><p>“Well, we both have tomorrow off, so… yes.”</p><p>They roll out of the bed, and by the end of the night, Nile’s glad their new apartment has a bathtub big enough for two.</p><p>*</p><p>In the morning, she wanders their apartment in her lace bralette and his boxers. She makes pancakes from the pre-made dry mix Bas had in a glass jar (“Nile, Bisquick is fine, but I can do better,” he said). Then she slow scrambles some eggs until they’re creamy. Bas emerges, still a little bleary-eyed, but hugs her from behind.</p><p>“Come back to bed,” he mumbles against her bonnet.</p><p>“We need food,” she teases, and winds her butt against him. He sighs happily, tugging the bra strap aside to press a kiss there, and then grabs the cast-iron skillet for bacon.</p><p>It’s Saturday. They’ve done all their grocery shopping yesterday, and they have today all to themselves. So after breakfast, they go back to bed. He scrolls through his phone and Nile reads Beverly Jenkins’ latest novel. They take turns sipping from the passionfruit smoothie Bas made.</p><p>Nile likes living with him, their kitchen appliances next to each other (her KitchenAid, his VitaMix); the bed sheets smelling like the both of them; Bas quietly getting rid of his laundry detergent to use hers, so now his clothes do smell like hers. She gets to enjoy the way Bas smiles when she wears his as pajamas.</p><p>She takes her bralette off, and Booker’s eye tracks the motion of the pink lace sailing over the side of the bed. He sets his phone down.</p><p>“Is this a hint?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.</p><p>“Yes, c’mere. I want to fall back asleep with my arms full of you.”</p><p>He crawls over her, solid and real, and all hers. His mouth dips down to her right breast, as tenderly as a wedding kiss. “Just for me,” he murmurs, giving it a lick in greeting.</p><p>“Just for you,” she replies in kind, and he latches on, “little girl.” He smiles, because he hears the <em>I love you</em> in those words. And that’s okay, their love and their relationship, is what they’ve made of it. They’ve built it with every minute they’ve spent together, every action Bas gave, and each word Nile carefully considered.</p><p>When Bas begins to fall asleep, his arms tighten around her, and he nuzzles close. And Nile tries out the words that have been sitting on the tip of her tongue, like an engagement ring hidden in her pocket. “I’m so happy, and I love you, and I want to keep doing this, I do, I do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you enjoyed this fic, please comment! Next chapter is the playlist.</p><p>ETA 1/22/22: Nile decides to get Booker a dog. But before she can, she visits Joe and Nicky, who're fostering cats, and Nile comes home with a cat. Booker spoils it rotten. Nile eventually gets a dog, one of those tiny fluffy snowball ones.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Playlist</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Good morning begins with you." --Tank &amp; the Bangas' Happy Town (ft. the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra)</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzRh6Eon5DQ">Whoa</a> / Snoh Aalegra</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LkwpOnarcUU">Neptune’s Jewels</a> / Mystic</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2EATQP3_fFg">Let It Burn</a> / Jazmine Sullivan</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ks3_kuRAzHs">Moment 4 Life</a> / Nicki Minaj</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=av5JD1dfj_c">Dancing With a Stranger</a> / Sam Smith &amp; Normani</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49lY0HqqUVc">Kiss It Better</a> / Rihanna</p>
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<p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/armando-young/stepping-stone">Stepping Stone</a> / Armando Young &amp; John Splithoff</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MvcoOlj6u3o">Undiscovered</a> / Laura Welsh</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZVMViSx6Ek">Breathing Underwater</a> / Hiatus Kaiyote</p>
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<p><a href="https://climbingpoetree.bandcamp.com/track/i-wanna-believe">I Wanna Believe</a> / Climbing Poetree</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYX2PafWEs8">Volverte A Amar</a> / Alejandra Guzmán &amp; Moderatto</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRfmVUA3bXQ">Hold On, We’re Going Home</a> / Christina Grimmie (Live on The Voice)</p>
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<li>

<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dEWuAcMWDLY">(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman</a> / Aretha Franklin</p>
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<p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/erezzobarymusic/banks-of-the-river">Banks of the River</a> / Erez Zobary</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.npr.org/2017/05/26/530218777/ama-bonus-hear-tank-and-the-bangas-full-set">Ripperton Love</a> / Tank and the Bangas (Live on NPR’s Ask Me Another, start at the 16:33 mark!)</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8Ky_nl9n2A">Loving Me 4 Me</a> / Christina Aguilera</p>
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<p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/erynallenkane/bass-song-16-bit-44-mstr-3">Bass Song</a> / Eryn Allen Kane</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bp9PLrVi0Mg">Casualty of Love</a> / Jessie J</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_OlhrBEISw">Highs &amp; Lows</a> / Emeli Sandé</p>
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<p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/chopsmusic/09-chops-lil-crazed-paul-kim">That Real Thing</a> / Chops ft. Lil Crazed &amp; Paul Kim</p>
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<li>

<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gP-g8vo4zUg">The Confession</a> / Becca Stevens (Laura Nyro cover)</p>
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<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2dcIjlwKyYo">Press Pause</a> / Danity Kane</p>
</li>
<li>

<p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kREG-wk7ADs">Diary</a> / Alicia Keys (Unplugged)</p>
</li>
<li>

<p>Tank &amp; the Bangas’ <a href="https://www.lpomusic.com/Online/seatSelect.asp?createBO::WSmap=1&amp;BOparam::WSmap::loadBestAvailable::performance_ids=806C4F07-B541-45F3-A80E-E631664FF4D4">live show</a> with the Louisiana Philharmonic Orchestra (it’s $15 behind a paywall)</p>
</li>
</ul>
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